As if pages strewn

from our notebooks, sketchpads, diaries - here you can follow our works in progress, see what we have been up to, share in our opinions, our expressions, our inner most thoughts; all displayed publically, left open for your perusal. A Journal of our occurrences. ...just don't forget to let us know what you think.

Jan
24th
Written by Lazy Gramophone Press on Sunday the 24th of January 2010

Melvin never made any friends. Not only was he extraordinarily shy, he was small for his age, had unusual hair (which felt and looked a little like a rusty cheese-grater), he blushed at the slightest thing, and, to make matters worse, there were paving slabs that were more athletic than Melvin. He was an easy target, so preoccupied was he with his ruminations that he rarely noticed his classmates. Even when one dedicated peer sat down next to him and spent the entire double Maths lesson chewing graph paper and spitting the tiny balls into Melvins velcroesque coif. It was four hours later when, by happenstance, he caught his reflection in... read more

Jan
23rd
Written by Sam Rawlings on Saturday the 23rd of January 2010

I will not bend, and so, does that mean I should be broken? Because to me bending is more painful than breaking, is an endurance I am not prepared for. Too often, the only attempt at making sense from death is suffering. Too often, we believe that anything less in life is a blessing, is a gift. Therefore, as we try to hold on to our perceptions, of the expected, of what it is to be satisfied; so it becomes... time that dreams of the next minds, of all the things we will not see. 'I Will Not' can be found within Sam Rawlings' book of poetry Circle Time, which is currently available from the Lazy Gramophone Shop . To read more... read more

Jan
22nd
Written by Sam Rawlings on Friday the 22nd of January 2010

A yellow puddle adrift the persistence, lock of hair, of refuge accorded the blinking sky. My light of air. Town of teeth and darkness, another haunted morning, echoes of a thousand feet, black eyes and perfect manes, the sound of our pause, the sound of change. My weight a damn of silence against the roar of space. She stands with balanced lips, our seesaw aches. My ashen canvas curled beneath her as if a feather fallen, line of chalk, a single flame drawn from the pale of dawn she hesitates. 'Rebel' can be found within Sam Rawlings' book of poetry Circle Time, which is currently available from... read more

Jan
22nd
Written by Sam Rawlings on Friday the 22nd of January 2010

Shouldn't we speak a little more softly afloat the breeze, in case words like memories conspire to break this, reclaim our hearts. Locks of chaos fall, dance upon her neck, arc of chin and that quick inhalation of breath; a labyrinth of limbs. Shouldn't we pay a little more attention cling a little tighter to this skimming stone's mast, for thoughts perchance to kiss, so often surpassed amid the mesh of rings flowering so fast. An angel's wings, the raising of her arms the curl of her lips, soil slipped from view. I love you. Two roots torn from the ground. Living proof, our rebellion. Motionless for now, her petals... read more

Jan
21st
Written by Danny on Thursday the 21st of January 2010

Over the past few years we have organised quite a few events in various places. I've bought some of the promotional flyers together from these events for your perusal.... read more

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